Mingmei Yip - Petals from the Sky

She shrugged. “So I was told by my mother.”

“What other things did she tell you?”

“She also saw a baby’s head with a dog’s body. It could perform all kinds of tricks, like somersaulting, walking on two legs, chasing his own tail-”

“Oh, no! Lisa, your mother must have made this up.”

“No, she didn’t. But…it’s a horrible story.”

“What is it? Tell me.”

“The dog was skinned alive and right afterwards, its skin was wrapped onto the newborn baby until the two grew together.”

“Yuck, that’s really sick…”

“I told you it was horrible.”

“These stories are true?”

“What do you think?” She winked.

A pause before we both burst out laughing.

A long silence fell between us, then Lisa took out a pack of cigarettes, shook one out, tapped it on the pack, and handed it to me.

“No, Lisa, I don’t smoke.”

“Have you ever?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“No thanks.”

“All right then.” She lit the cigarette, slid it between her lips with a slick movement of her hand, then took a deep drag. She released a mouthful of smoke, her lips still in the shape of a perfect O-or a chicken’s ass, as my mother would say; or a Zen circle, as Yi Kong would.

My eyes were smarting from the smoke.

Lisa asked, “So Michael is your boyfriend?”

The question took me by surprise. I carefully sipped my rum-soaked Coke, lowered my voice, and changed to a whispery tone, as if I were about to reveal the deepest secret. “Fiancé.”

She didn’t say anything, but kept squinting at me and blowing more clouds of smoke. “How did you meet?”

I sipped more of my rum and Coke, and before I’d decided what to say, began blurting out everything: how Michael and I had met in the Fragrant Spirit Temple; how he’d saved my life in the fire; my fall into the well when I was thirteen; my earlier contempt for men as well as my aspiration to be a nun; my friendship with Yi Kong and Dai Nam.

After I’d told her about myself, it seemed a new intimacy of sorts existed between us.

Lisa listened with a fascinated expression. “Incredible,” she said at last, raising her eyes to the ceiling and releasing a long, slow stream of smoke, then dropping her head and looking me in the eyes. “You called men ‘stupid piece of meat,’ ‘monk head,’ ‘four-eyed monster,’ ‘stinking testosterone,’ ‘walking garbage’? I love that!”

As if pulled by some magnetic force, I found myself shifting closer to her. She asked our “waitress” for another round of drinks.

Delicately she sipped her fresh martini, leaving a ring of her silvery lipstick on the glass. “Michael must be very fond of you.”

I nodded.

“Wonderful,” Lisa said, then she took a deep gulp of her drink and soundlessly laid down her glass. Next she picked up a few nuts and popped them into her mouth, chewing noisily with lips closed.

Suddenly the warmth in her eyes was gone and her voice was cold. “So when are you getting married?”

“He wants to soon, but I’m not sure I want it so quickly.”

“So you’re still not sure whether you want to marry him?”

“Not that-I love Michael. But I’ve spent most of my life hanging around nuns, so theirs is the world I’m comfortable in. Also, when you’re told over and over for fifteen years how human passion is illusory and how men are untrustworthy, it’s confusing. And I’m even more confused since I don’t feel that way with Michael. He seems as centered as a rock, and never bothered-”

“Nobody is not bothered by anything, Meng Ning.”

She sipped more of her martini and inhaled deeply her cigarette. “Now let me tell you another story. It’s Japanese, about a lighthouse watchman living on an island. He fell in love with a beautiful pearl diver who lived on the island opposite his. Every evening he turned on the light so his lover could see the way when she swam across the sea to meet him. Then he fell in love with another girl. One stormy night, when the pearl diver was swimming toward his lighthouse, he put out the light-”

“So what happened?”

“She drowned. Of course.” Lisa squashed her cigarette in the ash tray.

“Why do you tell such a terrible story?”

“That man was my fiancé.”

“Oh…”

Lisa seemed to wrestle with her emotions. “I use the story as a metaphor.” She paused, then said, “He dumped me…for someone else.” She bit her lips, her eyes darting around. “But I’m still in love with him.” She paused to stare into her glass, now quite empty. “You can’t analyze love, can you?”

Yi Kong could. Love is illusory. It’s the cause of suffering.

Lisa’s voice, mingled with the tobacco, wafted bittersweet toward me. “That fiancé was Michael. We were engaged.”

Back home, I felt dizzy and had a terrible headache. I paced back and forth in Michael’s apartment, waiting for the click of the door to bring his face.

Michael finally came home at 11:00 PM. Before he even had a chance to take off his jacket, I told him that I had spent the evening with Lisa and that we needed to talk-right here and now.

“All right. I’ll explain. Let’s sit down.” He led me to sit on the sofa. “Meng Ning, yes, Lisa and I were engaged-a few years ago.”

“For how long?”

He hesitated, then said, “Five.”

“Five years? You were engaged for so many years and didn’t marry her?”

Michael didn’t answer my question. He continued on a different track. “After I’d become Professor Fulton’s student and gotten to know Lisa, he’d take us together to museums and concerts. In the beginning I did feel affection for her…she seemed interesting and intelligent.” He paused. “But then it turned out she has a personality disorder-”

“What do you mean?”

“She has frequent nervous breakdowns. When I told her I was going to break the engagement, she tried to slash her wrists… Meng Ning, this was all in the past-can we just not talk about it now?”

Then the fortune-teller’s reading poured into my mind:

Some of his relatives, like his mother, father, or even son, will sacrifice their lives for him so that he can live a good life in this incarnation…his love life will not be smooth. In fact, it’s rather troubled. He might have more than one marriage.

I blurted, “So you also have a son with Lisa?”

Michael looked stunned. “Did she tell you that?”

“No. Remember, the Master of Living Buddha said you’ll have two marriages, and your son-” Now I understood Michael’s nervousness about his reading.

“Did you have a son with her?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, heavens, then where is he now?”

“He never lived. She aborted him during her fourth month of pregnancy.”

“You didn’t try to stop her?”

“She only told me after the abortion.”

“Is it because of your guilt that you stayed with her for so long?”

“Meng Ning, I’m too exhausted to go into this and I have another very hectic day tomorrow. Can we talk about this some other time?”

Through the night, though Michael slept as if comatose, I flipped and tossed by his side, imagining his wild past with Lisa. I also couldn’t help but imagine how he’d done it with her . Had he cupped her breasts as tenderly as he cupped mine? Had he whispered into her ears the same endearing phrases he whispered into mine? Had he slipped his tongue into her mouth and let it indulge itself in all kinds of decadent pleasures as it did in mine?

Michael’s busy schedule kept him at the hospital for long hours and we didn’t have much chance to talk. Two days later, before I could bring up the issue of Lisa again, he had to go to Boston for two days, to attend a meeting about one of his research projects. He’d already told me about this and apologized when he’d invited me to visit him in the States.